Bound
by Bleve
Summary: "I belong to you, Fenris—as much as you belong to me." Fenris/FemHawke.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: Hello all! I have been a huge lurker/reader of this site for the past 5 years, but this is the very first piece of my fanfiction that I actually had the nerve to publish. I have written a few pieces over that time, so maybe I'll post those too. I would like to thank Denvori for his proofreading skills.

**Disclaimer**: Fenris and Hawke belong to Bioware. I'm just a fangirl who was inspired by them to write.

* * *

For all my life, or what little I remember of it, I had been a slave. Someone told me when to get up, when to eat, when to fight. Everything was an order I had to follow. Now, with Danarius dead, I was supposedly free.

"I am free," I sneered at the empty mansion. "Out of one cage and into another," I laughed bitterly to myself.

How did this happen? I mulled the question over and over again in my head. Three years ago, I shackled myself to a new master. Albeit, a much nicer, more honorable, and strikingly gorgeous master—she would despise the title—but, it was still an accurate description. I even wore a red band around my wrist, a scarlet cuff with a symbolic chain that led right to her.

"I did it to myself," I sighed aloud. "I'm to blame this time."

Yet I knew, somewhere buried very deep, that I was being unfair. My bitterness and fear consumed me, fail-safes to protect what little heart I had left. She did not command me. She never ordered me to do anything. She often sought my counsel and listened to my opinions, even when they differed from her own. She shared the coin found on outings equally and even found time to chat over wine. All of these things made her less of a master and more of a friend to me—until that night.

I went to her mansion with years of longing glances and flirtatious words built up between us. I was drawn to Hawke: her wit, her beauty, her skill. I simply could not get her out of my head, and could not bear to stay away from her any longer. I had told her that I would go; all she had to do was say it. In retrospect, I should have known she would never have done so. My lips claimed hers, and every nerve ending in my body reveled in her touch. Our love was exhilarating, something awesome and yet terrifying. I had never known such deep emotion for anyone, and I believe that is what triggered my flashbacks.

So, what did I do, faced with the haunting memories of my past? I tried to run, just as I had done with my previous master. I fled, leaving her room that night full of regret and shame. I contemplated fleeing Kirkwall, thinking that it was for the best, but I could not bring myself to do it; my feelings for her would not let me leave. After, there was a terrible tension between us. Every time I laid my eyes upon her, my emotions would threaten to boil to the surface. Her presence would trigger these primal feelings in me that were so overwhelming. I reined them in the best I could, and slowly, I built a wall between us with bricks of guilt, shame, and fear. Every moment of shame because I would never be good enough for her, every drop of guilt because I had tainted something so pure and beautiful, every shred of fear caused by the fact that one day she would be with someone else. I was fairly sure she hated me, or at least she should have hated me after what I had done to her. I hated me, so surely she must. I was suffocating, stagnant—trapped behind my wall with no way out. It made me even more bitter, if that were possible, and reclusive. There was a distance between us, but the chain was still there attached to my red shackle. So I found myself here, freed from one master yet bound to another by my own hand.

"I am a damn fool," I said aloud to the empty room. "A fool and a coward."

"You are neither of those things," the emptiness replied.

I tense at the sound of her voice, chiding myself for not hearing her come in. Too busy wallowing in your self-pity, idiot. A few seconds later, my mistress stands before me, in front of the fireplace. Hair in her eyes, tanned arms crossed against her chest, she leans against the mantel nonchalantly.

"But do not let me interrupt your conversation with the wall," she smirked.

"What do you want, Hawke?" I sighed. I know that she has come here with a purpose; I see it etched into her face. She is not easily deterred, and once she decides something has to be done, it is. I decide to get right to the heart of the matter.

She smiles at my words. "I've always appreciated your ability to cut to the chase. No need for pleasantries and empty words—just right to business."

"And I've always appreciated your ability to speak and not hold back, so do so," I respond flippantly. We could always banter back and forth, even with the tension.

"You are a free man now Fenris," she started. "Why are you cooped up in here? No one has seen you in almost a week and…"

"Cooped up," I snapped, interrupting her. I could feel my emotions erupting—her use of the term free lit them like a match.

"I finally killed the man who had been hunting me for years. I gained and lost a sister I never knew. I discovered that it was my own greedy and stupid hand that led me to these filthy markings," I spit the words out like venom.

The anger, the pain, the guilt—all of it is in my voice as I sneer, "After all that, I just wanted solitude."

I saw her wince at the word solitude. Even now, years later, laced with suffering and sorrow, my request to be alone still caused her pain.

"I am sorry; I did not mean to intrude. No one had heard from you and I was worried. I will leave you to your solitude," she emphasized the last word with disgust.

I was shocked. I could not believe it. Her words…she was concerned—on some level she cared. After what I did to her that night, abandoning her in the most vulnerable of moments, she still had some remnant of feeling for me. In that moment of clarity, I knew that being bound to Marian Hawke was right. I accepted my duty: I could serve her, love her from afar, and know that she at least still cared for me. I could never forgive myself for what I did, but I could atone for the pain I had caused.

"Wait…" I called out. She stopped, her back still facing me.

"I know you think I am a free man now," I struggled with the words. "But, you are wrong."

I closed the distance between us, walking slowly up behind her.

"It is true that I am no longer Danarius' pet, but now…" my voice broke, betraying all the emotion that I was trying to hold back. The pain in my voice called to her and she turned around to face me.

"Now, I am bound to another. And I can not break free this time." I found her eyes, and stared into their depths. I wanted her to know that what I said next was true, and cemented with every emotion I had.

"I have never been worthy of her, but she has shown me great kindness and loyalty. She slowly earned my trust, and has never once broken it. She taught me that people were capable of good, and that they could love freely, for nothing in return. She proved that I could love someone, when I did not think that was possible. She allowed me into her heart, and I abandoned her," I was choking on my words now, the regret and sorrow of all these years, bursting forth.

"So, I will be bound to you, Marian Hawke, until the day I no longer breathe. I ruined what we had, and if the only way I can have you is to serve you, then so be it."

I dropped to my knees in front of her, spent from all the emotions that were raging inside of me. I turned my face downward, the shame of my confession weighing on me. I waited for words from her, not sure that I would want to hear them.

Instead, she knelt down, and gently lifted my chin so that I would meet her gaze. In her eyes, I saw everything I would ever need. Forget air, water, light…it was all worthless if I did not have her as well.

"I belong to you, Fenris—as much as you belong to me" she whispered, so ardently, daring anyone to doubt her statement.

She smashed her lips into mine, my hands found her hips and her arms were around my neck. Everything was fire; I was absolutely consumed by her.

I was finally free, bound to her.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: Originally, Bound was going to be a one-shot. However, a) I am new to the site and b) apparently the site is having technical issues (to put it mildly), so I was not able to change the status to complete. In retrospect, I am glad it worked out this way, because last night I was inspired to write the second and final chapter of Bound from Hawke's POV. Who knows, if not for the site issues, I may have never posted it. Moral of the story, all's well that ends well.

**Disclaimer**: Once again, I am saddened by the fact that I do not own Fenris or Hawke.

* * *

I opened my eyes to find a familiar room, although I had never seen it this time of night or under these circumstances. A full moon's light streamed in through the window, bathing the room in a soft glow. I could hear the sound of rhythmic breathing, and could see the rise and fall of his chest—smooth white skin embellished with purple lines. I traced the delicate marks with my eyes: up his sculpted chest, along his graceful neck, ending at his handsome face. His eyes were closed in peaceful slumber, and his lips were parted just slightly as he slept. In all the time I had known him, he had never seemed relaxed, until now.

I was content to lie there and enjoy the beautiful man intertwined with me—I was not sure where I ended and he began. Every muscle in my body ached in the most pleasant of ways, a small price to pay to feel so alive again. I was physically spent, but my mind was still running over the events of this evening and the past several years. I had come to his home earlier tonight out of concern, and to be honest, was hesitant in doing so. Fenris and I had history, and it was not always pretty.

"All that time wasted," I whispered, running my fingertips along the lyrium marking on his arm.

From the very moment that I laid eyes on him six years ago, I knew he was like no other man I had ever met. It was not just the exotic looks or the unique skills he possessed; there was something else about him that called to the deepest reaches of my humanity. In the beginning, our friendship was rocky at best. He trusted no one, but I made it my personal mission to be the first to earn it. He despised magic and never held his tongue about it, which made for some interesting interactions in our little group. In particular, he and Anders would clash frequently. Both were stubborn mules, and believed whole-heartedly in their convictions. There were quite a few times where I had to stand between them, and tell them to cool down, or I would kick both of their asses.

Somehow, in that mess, our friendship slowly grew, until one day it blossomed into something more. One evening, a bunch of us were at the Hanged Man, enjoying a little rest and relaxation. I was playing cards with Varric and Anders, and all of us were trying to teach Merrill how to play. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Isabela left her stool at the bar, and sauntered over to Fenris, taking a seat next to him. I found her behavior off; usually she spent her off time preying upon the numerous male patrons. She leaned forward, placing her ample breasts right in his face, and whispered something in his ear. Fenris looked confused first, then shocked, and finally intrigued as they continued their conversation. I felt my blood begin to boil as they spoke, and, fueled by the ale, I abruptly excused myself from the table. I stormed over to where they sat, only to discover that whatever conversation they were having was over. I did not dare ask Fenris about it, but I went to Isabela the very first chance I had, and confronted her. She wore a smirk on her face during the entire discussion, but she would not tell me what they had spoken of—only that, based on my reaction, it had been effective.

At that point, thanks to my friend's meddling, I realized that I felt very deeply for Fenris, in ways that were not platonic. Of course, I cared for him and had compassion for him, so they were part of it. But, there was more. I had clearly been jealous; I wanted his attention and his admiration. I had slowly but surely fallen for Fenris, and what drew me to him was his passion. Fenris felt all or nothing—he was never undecided or middle of the road. Even when our opinions differed, I appreciated his ardor for his position. I wanted to know that passion and be consumed by it; I wanted him to feel all for me.

Acceptance of my feelings led me to flirt with him, and we began to have nightly chats over glasses of wine. The longing built up between us culminating in that night three years ago when he finally granted me my wish. He showed up at my house late at night, not long after dealing with Hadriana. He marched up to me, claiming that he could not get thoughts of me out of his head. He told me that he would go if I asked, but I would never be able to tell him to leave—I wanted him and I was going to have him. But, the very thing that I loved most about Fenris, his passion, is what condemned that night. He felt so much that it triggered memories of his past that he could not deal with, and he fled.

It crushed me deeply, I will admit. No one ever wants to think that something so beautiful could have such ugly consequences. No one ever wants to think that they caused their lover anguish simply by being with them. I was royally pissed at first. I wanted to confront him, take my fists and pummel him, and tell him to get the hell out of Kirkwall. In one of my more stupid and angrier moments, I even considered going to Anders for comfort, knowing that it would probably lead to more. I thought it may make me feel better, and as an added bonus, Fenris despised him. Luckily, I regained my senses before I ever acted on any of my impulses. None of it would have brought him back.

I was filled with immense despair. For a brief time that night I had known Fenris' passion and no amount of revenge could replace it. I had a taste of heaven, of emotion so strong that it shook me to my core, and I was addicted. I wondered if this was what it felt like to be on lyrium, having the need of it consume you until you can think of nothing else. It was ironic; the former slave had basically enslaved me—not by force, but by love. I thought that he would depart from our little group, but he did not. It was a good thing that he did not leave; what I felt that night with Fenris had a grip on me so strong, I would have followed him all over Thedas. He took care to make sure that we were never alone, and he never once broached the subject. For three long years we sat in limbo, afraid, neither progressing nor regressing, until last night.

I felt him stir below me, and a hand slid along my spine leaving goose bumps in its wake. "You should be sleeping," he murmured.

"Well, I was until you tickled my back." He gave me a disbelieving look and I sighed, "Alright…maybe I was lying here enjoying the scenery."

He smirked, "Were you now?"

"Yes, it's like I have my own little lyrium garden to play in."

He laughed at that, and I smiled before continuing, "Besides, last time I did not get to enjoy the view."

His face fell slightly at the reminder of our previous encounter. He started, "Marian, I am so…"

"Stop," I abruptly said as I put a finger over his lips. "If you tell me you are sorry one more time, I will scream."

He looked confused, so I continued, "I forgave you for leaving a long time ago—that night happened and I will not forget it. I refuse to feel badly that it did happen, since it led me to be here with you right now. It was incredible, and sometimes in life, you have to take the good with the bad. So, no apologies, Fenris. I am not sorry it happened, and I hope that neither are you. We wasted three precious years in agony, and I refuse to waste one more minute. "

"Your wish is my command, messere," he replied as he beamed at me. He pulled my face up to his, and stared at me with those stunning, green eyes. They looked more at ease then I had ever seen them, and I took great satisfaction in knowing that my presence had everything to do with that.

"So, am I having an incredible dream?" I asked as I ran a hand down his muscular stomach.

"Not unless I am having the same one," he responded back as he wrapped his arms around me.

"You are staying this time," I half asked and half demanded.

"Well, yes, we are in my house after all," he replied teasingly, wearing a huge smirk.

I grinned and reached down below his stomach, giving him a playful tug, "You should be nicer when you are so exposed."

He gasped in pleasure and growled, "I am not going anywhere ever."

"Neither am I."


End file.
